


Bad Surgery

by the_great_nagi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dacryphilia, Dissection, Emetophilia, Gore, Guro, Medical Torture, Mutilation, Nudity, Other, Public Nudity, School, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_great_nagi/pseuds/the_great_nagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It isn't good enough, Mr. Mallorie." The teacher loomed over Mutie's shoulder, almost speaking for him. "You sent a child to his death, didn't you? A child who trusted you, no less? How awful. Proceed with the dissection."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> gore gore gore gore gore
> 
> these are probably physically impossible but w/e

When he woke up, he wasn't alone.

The cold air brushed over his bared body. Shit, he was naked. Naked as fuck. Not only that, but people were looking -- kids, for that matter -- he didn't have to come to his senses to notice that. He couldn't move an inch with his weighty limbs, all of which were strapped to the table. He smacked his lips and flicked his eyelids. How he got here was an anomaly, he was sure he had thrown Mutie in the way--

Fuck, where was Mutie? Mutie was his sacrificial lamb, his scapegoat, and now where was the little guy?

"Ah, he's awake! A perfect time to start. Now, who can tell me what this is? Can you, Timothy?"

"A homosapien specimen, sir. Approximately 15 years of age."

The larrikin child muttered to himself.

"Yeah, 15 years of doin' yer mom, Timothy."

The teacher smacked his bare, tender chest with a long ruler. It left an indescribably painful burn, and he bit his lip. No way was he gonna bend to this old fucker's will. No stupid ghost house could make him listen to some adult.

"No crude language here, young man."

"How about ya go fuck yerself-- _Shit!_ " Another rough smack went to his stomach, where he noticed a long line was drawn down his stomach. A thick, black marker was used, he could tell. It was bisected by the rough, slowly dissipating red strip in his flesh where he was lashed. Harsh educational system over here, huh?

"Good boy," The teacher continued. "now children, today is dissection day. We're going to see what's inside this boy's body." The children gasped in awe.

"There's guts in there. Get an anatomy chart, ol' man."

"It's not good enough. Now who would like to volunteer?"

Half the class rose their hands. The teacher hummed to himself, finally picking one student in the back. Sadly, due to his position, he couldn't see the chosen one's face. "Antoine Brehaute, was it? Come forward, boy."

Footsteps came closer and closer. Up until a figure stood above him, a figure too familiar. 

"Mutie!" He jolted halfway up in his bindings, though then being reminded that sadly, he could not. "W-what the hell are you doin' here? Untie me already, would ya?"

Mutie gazed daggers into his direction. A look he had never seen Mutie produce before. He was angry, and Caroll knew it, deep in his guts. He had never seen Mutie like this -- at the very least, Mutie just tended to be silent and civil, and he went along with whatever Caroll wanted. Never angry, or incensed, or enraged, none of that. It was horrific, to be at this boy's mercy, even if he was only 9.

"Look, Mutie, I'm sorry--"

"It isn't good enough, Mr. Mallorie." The teacher loomed over Mutie's shoulder, almost speaking for him. "You sent a child to his death, didn't you? A child who trusted you, no less? How awful. Proceed with the dissection."

"Mutie! Don't listen to this guy, please!"

Mutie ignored Caroll's pleas, grabbing a scalpel -- glistening silver in the limited light -- and pinched the flesh taut like a drum. The scalpel drew down to his lower abdomen, and right above his fucking dick, no less. 

It was barely a sting, honestly. It was about as painful as getting a shot, except it went on longer. It was like a zipper from his clavicle to his crotch, now bleeding all over the table. 

"Now, this is the ribcage. You need to break it open to get through,"

"Mutie!"

He was only given a stone cold look. A look that said 'I won't listen to you anymore'. The face of himself as a child.

It was understandable. Even in a universe where Caroll Mallorie was the face of authority, Mutie had no obligation to listen.

With the help of the teacher, a crack hit his hearing. No amount of lacerations from a scalpel could prepare him for this inhuman amount of pain. It hurt, lord, did it hurt. He yelled out, hacking up a wad of spit all over his face. Mutie ignored him, mechanically moving down to the next rib. Crack. Crack. Crack. Like marbles in a circle, they broke without thought.

"Stop! Make it stop!"

"Poor boy." The teacher faked sympathy. It hurt more knowing that this was just like him, this is what he would do. If he were in Mutie's place, he'd take advantage of the offensive position, even if Mutie was his victim.

Mutie nonchalantly piled up his snapped ribs next to his head. They all piled up, covered in blood from his abdominal cavity.

"M-Mutie..." He sucked in a breath, hissing between his parted teeth. "Mutie, please..."

"Alright, see these? These are the lungs. We can't pull them out now, or he'll cease living almost immediately. Try the stomach, instead. Give it a little squeeze."

Mutie slammed his hand down on Caroll's scrunching stomach, grinding the membrane against his...oh god, he didn't want to know. The acrid flavor came fast, and oh how it was, to vomit into his own stomach cavity. It was agonizing, oh lord, he had never hurt as much as he did now. This level of anguish, he just couldn't take it. He hacked up a yellowish pile of what he assumed was a half-digested breakfast omelet, a bit spilling into his open ribcage.

"As you can see, the food digests in the stomach and moves through the intestines to be excreted. You may remove it, Brehaute."

It came out with a rough tug, and all the torment seemed to blur together. He was a hazy mess, bleeding out on the table. The sensations moved downward, the words of the teacher became inaudible, he couldn't understand anything at all...

It felt like hours before the lower cavity was empty.

"We'll leave him here to bleed out. For now, you children can look at his digestive tract."

Mutie stood over him, drawing lines around his remaining cavity. He felt so empty, and sort of on the cusp of life and death. The earth phased in and out of him, like the trees he used to drive by when dad took him to the therapist. His sight got all spotty, everything just wanted so badly to dissipate...

"Gh..." His voice sounded like a mere whisper, like it was nothing. Like when he yelled too much at his teachers, and he lost his voice, it melted away like all the sights and sounds that he barely embraced in life. Oh lord, what he'd give to wake up in his room, sweaty and terrified, but _alive._

In his dull hearing, the sound of chalk on a blackboard came through his skull. He hated that noise. It reminded him of elementary school, where he was held down like a monkey and lumped in with the special needs children due to some stupid "conduct disorder". 

He felt palms behind his head, pushing it up slightly so he could see ahead of him and to his side. The words were written on the blackboard, in Mutie's messy scrawl of handwriting. 

_"You're crying."_

His lungs shifted to a halt.


End file.
